I’ve lived in the North for just coming up to 5 years now. It was the home I didn’t know I was looking for. On the eve of a new chapter in the North starting, I wanted to take some time to reminisce and recount my journey to here.

Mainly because this new chapter is actually the start of the end of my time in Leeds, and really it’s gone by so fast that I wanted to delve a little into all the parts of the story that have led to here and remind myself of where I’ve been before I hyper-focus on where I’m going.

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It was dark the first night I drove up the M1 from London, the first time I’ve travelled up that way in all my time living in the UK. To be honest aside from a handful of trips to Manchester to visit family and a few weeks spent working in Glasgow and Aberdeen, I’d not really spent much time at all further north than Birmingham (which of course isn’t north, it’s the midlands but from London it’s further north!)

I was definitely exhausted with the constant onslaught of London living, home felt half a million miles away in the West and I had very little interest in returning to reside on the South coast – but I didn’t really have much expectation of the North other than a few days in a new to me place to re-charge.

A friend of a friend had a place and I think at that point I hadn’t fully decided that I wanted to leave my glamourous career in the beauty industry or London at all, but I definitely had subconsciously disconnected from life somewhat. So I just headed up for the weekend, but as I passed further and further north up the M1 I don’t know I just felt like, like I was coming home.

The passing lights of small towns and huge blankets of nothing but darkness and the widening sky really felt like I was escaping my little world. As I came upon Sheffield and the lights of the Meadowhall I was the farthest North I’d been in a long while and it felt exciting to say the least.

I passed through South Yorkshire, into West Yorkshire where I would be staying. I had been told that when I reached Wakefield, I was but a stones throw from where I’d stay.

By the time I saw the city of Leeds coming up on the horizon it was very late and I was glad to reach my destination in the South of the city, so I could crawl into bed. The room I stayed in had a beautiful skyline view of the city set amongst the countryside and this little island of lights among the dark of the night was created a welcoming warmth and thrill of excitement to my weary heart.

There was something very nostalgic about it despite having never been there before in my life.

Morning dawned and it was a rare warm day for mid-September, we headed into the city first and I was struck by the contrast of the historic and modern architecture – the north was not at all what I had imagined, for sure you could see remnants of it’s industrial past and the subsequent poverty but actually, it was a melting pot of tech, finance and digital advancement and to be honest felt more like someone had micro-sized the city of London and popped it half the country away. A new wealth seemed to line the streets and every quarter was alive with the hustle and bustle of the modern world.

I think growing up we were taught the North was this dim place full of smog, where industrialisation had torn the soul from the countryside and created a bleak and misery-filled quality of life for the inhabitants – but this could not have been farther from the truth. In fact while there were and are some very old parts of the North they all play their part in the Norths historic and culture-rich story which add to its rich tapestry today.

I liked the vibe, but it was what lay just beyond the city that truly captured my heart – countryside for eons. Valleys, dales, fells and moors as far as the eye could see. The Yorkshire Dales to the north, the North York Moors to the north-east. A short drive through the Dales had me convinced – I wasn’t returning south to live, I was going to live here. It was like someone had transported me to Middle-Earth and I had zero interest in returning to the large populated cities of the south.

Over the course of the following months I would travel back every Friday to Leeds and eventually, I even started working from Leeds on Monday’s just to steal a little extra time up here – by the time the days had shortened in November I was ready to quit my job and just make a break for the north.

So I did.

I don’t think I’ve ever been one to live up to expectations but I think even this sudden trajectory change was a little unsettling for my close circle of folk in the south who couldn’t understand why I was willing to give up my life in London to be so far away from everything.

I don’t think I really understood it, but I just felt at home in the North. Like I could be fully myself.

So, I quit my job, I remember walking out of the central London offices on that last Friday and heading for the train – only to find that there was a huge issue on the lines and there were no trains north. I ran from Kings Cross, to St Pancras, to Euston and back to Kings Cross in desperate hope of making a train. There was no way I was going to let this hurdle stop me.

I managed to call a friend and he said if I could get to Manchester he’d drive to pick me up and bring me to Leeds. I ran for the last and only train leaving for Manchester amid the travel chaos. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I ran to the platform, out of breath, spluttering and sweating I crawled on board throwing my bags down. I upgraded to first class (mainly to save my fellow passengers from having to watch me sweat furiously as my heart tried to pump blood around my body fast enough to keep me standing) and from there I composed myself so I could enjoy the journey.

As we rolled into Manchester Piccadilly, I felt a huge wave of relief. I had made it. I had made friends with a business woman and an artist from the film industry on the train and shared our stories and reasons for headed North – they wished me luck on my new adventure and as I ran for the ticket gates I felt like Bilbo Baggins setting off for the Lonely Mountain.

I think for me, Leeds just felt like home. It shouldn’t have, in fact I think no one more than me was surprised at how much it did, but every-time I saw Leeds on the signs, or even signs for the North I just felt like I was coming home. It was a weird sensation to be honest.

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This has been my first post back really, so I wanted to say thank you if you made it this far. I’ve had a long break from writing so I’m a little rusty – but I enjoyed this so I’m certain I’ll share more. I’d love to know if you’ve got a place that just felt like home the minute you visited and was it what you expected?